


Gross misuse of a skeeball machine

by thecannabiskid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: I don't wanna make them chapters because then I'll just give up but oh well, M/M, kind of the next part to how to say thank you ????, no fun facts this time sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecannabiskid/pseuds/thecannabiskid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thunderball, fun for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gross misuse of a skeeball machine

                The hideout is empty. God, why does he keep spending his weekends here? He feels bad for not spending enough time with Flipper but he needs to be away from a screen. Wow. That’s a first.

                He won’t admit that he’s here to see Mr. Robot. That’s unhealthy. He can’t cling to someone. “If you keep showing up here I’m gonna kick you out.” He jumps. He hadn’t seen Mr. Robot.

                “Why?” Mr. Robot sighs. “Maybe I came to play,” his eyes land on the skeeball machine, “skeeball.” The sign above it is obnoxious, Thunderball, fun for all.

                “Elliot,” he shrugs, it feels weird and he’s sure it looks weird and he’s digging in his pant pocket.

                “Even have quarters.” He says and Mr. Robot watches him press the quarter into the machine. The game lights up and spits out the balls and he looks back at Mr. Robot. “See,” he says pointedly and Mr. Robot sits on the machine next to the one Elliot is using.

                “Kid,” he starts and Elliot swallows hard. He’s been found out. Fuck. He’s fucked. “If I beat your score you don’t come here unless I tell you to.” It takes him a moment to process.

                “Okay.”

 

                “That’s cheating.” Elliot says flatly as Mr. Robot scrambles up the machine with several of the balls in his arms, pushing them through the highest point count. He should have picked one with a grid but he hadn’t anticipated this outcome when he went over the situation in his head.

                “Why the fuck are you here, kid?” He shoves his hands in his pockets. Why is he here? Because the thank you he tried giving didn’t go the way he had planned? There was no need to thank him back. The blow job hadn’t been that good. He blinks. “Elliot,” he’s stepping down off the machine. “Why are you here?”

                “I think,” he starts and he’s got to bullshit his way out of this. Mr. Robot isn’t like Darlene or Shayla, he can’t just not answer. “Everyone has a different idea of why they are here.” Mr. Robot stifles a laugh, coughs, and shakes his head.

                “That’s good, very deep, but I didn’t ask you that, good try with the bullshitting though.” He turns, rolls the rest of the balls and sighs. “Well, kid, I win.”

                “You cheated.”

                “Elliot,” he’s close and he smells like patchouli and Elliot can’t think. “You’re wasting my time, Elli-“

                “Can I kiss you?” Shayla told him not to ask the one time he kissed her. He feels like he should ask. He said that to her while she stitched up his jacket pocket. She shook her head. Maybe he should have listened to her because Mr. Robot’s mouth is moving but is he speaking? Elliot can’t focus. God he can’t focus. Mr. Robot cups his face and his whole body goes rigid. “God, Darlene was right,”

                “Wh-what?” He blinks, brows coming together.

                “She said you looked like a kicked dog the other day, I honestly didn’t see it before but, huh, she has a point.”

                “Okay.” He swallows hard and Mr. Robot nods.

                “You gotta stand up for yourself, you know that, right?”

                He nods slowly, breathes slowly and nods again. “Can I?” He whispers and Mr. Robot closes the gap. It’s electric and Elliot’s hands shake, move to touch Mr. Robot’s shoulder and he parts his lips. It was different when he kissed Shayla. He can’t pinpoint what’s different this time and he pulls back slow. Mr. Robot’s eyes flick from his face then down over the rest of him and he feels like he isn’t wearing enough clothes.

                “Time to leave kid,” he says it and Elliot feels like he’s been pegged in the face with a skeeball.

                “Bu-“

                “So you do want something.” He gets cut off. Fuck. God dammit. “You can’t keep playing this game.” Fuck him he could play this game for hours. Mr. Robot grabs him by the shoulder, steers him and forces him down hard on his ass on the skeeball machine. “Come on I have shit to do,”

                “Like what?” He’s trying to buy time.

                “Sleeping.” He says flatly and Elliot fights a smile, forces it into a frown. He can’t be this happy being around Mr. Robot. Can he? Fuck.

                “I like sleeping.” He murmurs and Mr. Robot runs a hand through his hair, adjusts his glasses.

                “Is this about the ferris wheel, kid?” He’s crouching down to look Elliot in the eye. “Oh for Christ’s sake.” Elliot’s heart seizes up.

                “Can I?” He whispers and he doesn’t wait for a response this time, leans forward and kisses him, hands gripping the ledges of the machine. He’s kissing Mr. Robot. It’s good. He doesn’t have much practice so he assumes it’s good. It feels good to him. God, that’s selfish. Very one-sided. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat to indicate that it’s good for him. Is it good for Mr. Robot? He hopes so.

                He’s being pushed back, back against the machine, the zipper of his jacket is being pulled down, and a warm hand presses against his stomach and he opens his eyes halfway.

                Mr. Robot raises an eyebrow at him. “This is why you keep showing up?” His voice is accusing. Elliot stiffens up. Ouch, relax. Relax. Relax. He relaxes.    

                “Yes,” is all he manages, fucking idiot, speak. Speak. “It is.” Don’t speak next time. Christ.

                “You really are a kicked dog.”

                “Am not,” he breathes. He is. He’s sure Flipper thinks he’s pathetic. He told her why he was leaving her with Shayla. _I’ll be back soon, I have to do something, the guy’s a little crazy but he was good to me, be a good girl, okay_. God he’s crazier than Mr. Robot. He lets out a breathy laugh. Fuck. His chest tightens and he focuses on Mr. Robot’s mouth.

                “Humor me,” God his therapist says that. He blinks. “What was your plan?”

                “I didn’t have one,” he says and Mr. Robot laughs. He thought he had a plan. Did he have a plan? Fuck him.

                “You are not good at this, are you?”

                Good at what? Flirting? Thinking? Being a normal human being? “No.” He says and Mr. Robot laughs.

                “Honesty, I can appreciate that.” He nods. “Did you want to do this here?” Something changes in his tone that has Elliot shivering. He nods. Doesn’t trust his voice to communicate what he needs. “Your back is gonna hurt,” he gets up and Elliot doesn’t move. “Okay, but that’s on you.”

                He works his pants off and Elliot closes his eyes. “You want this?”

                “Yes,” he hears a cap pop and then a cold finger at his entrance.

                “Relax.” He breathes and the gasp that leaves Elliot’s lips have Mr. Robot smiling at him. He’s grabbing at him; he feels frantic, needs to kiss him. He presses another digit in while Elliot is focusing on kissing him, he twists his fingers and Elliot is pulling back and moaning, gasping like someone cut off his air. He rubs the bundle of nerves again and Elliot’s whole body arches up and he’s moaning through gritted teeth. He presses in another finger. “Relax, no one’s here,” he murmurs and Elliot’s jaw is relaxing and he’s making a steady stream of noises. It feels good. Fuck. Fucking Christ. He can hear foil being ripped, but the three fingers in his ass aren’t gone. “Elliot,”

                “Please,” he chokes out, his breathing ragged and Mr. Robot laughs at him. “Come on,” he whispers and he’s pulling Mr. Robot  down for a kiss that he needs. His tongue is clumsy and he licks at Mr. Robot’s teeth as the man removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock. “Fuck,” he whines, and Mr. Robot holds him still, bites at his jaw and soothes the spots over with his tongue. “You really gotta fucken move,” he rasps, squeezes at Mr. Robot’s shoulder and he can feel the man’s lips on his neck, can feel him smile as he starts to move.

                He sucks bruises on Elliot’s neck, each thrust has Elliot’s hips rubbing against the sides of the machine and fuck, he’s gonna have bruises. The word sticks to his eyelids. Bruises. Bruises. Bruises. He lets out a startled gasp when Mr. Robot nails his prostate. “I got ya,” he murmurs and Elliot hadn’t realized his whole body had tensed up. “Relax, Elliot.” He lets out a shaky breath and Mr. Robot starts to move again, nails his prostate three times in a row and Elliot lets out a sob of pleasure, can feel his climax building at the base of his spine. He closes his eyes, arches up into the thrusts until he’s cumming on himself. Mr. Robot grunts and pulls out half a minute later. He disposes of the condom and cleans Elliot up; he makes a soft hushing noise when Elliot’s body tries jerking away from the touch.

                He lets Mr. Robot pull him to stand, fixes his pants while the other wipes down the machine, he can’t make eye contact with him. Why does he feel ashamed? It was good. He enjoyed himself. He touches his neck. “Sorry,” Mr. Robot says and Elliot is kissing him, brows furrowed and he drags his lips down his jaw, down his throat. He moves the collar of the others shirt and sucks a bruise. Even. Well as even as he’ll get. He needs to leave, can feel the panic settling in his stomach.

                “I need to go.”

                “Don’t come back next weekend,” he says and Elliot is pulling his hood up as the door swings open. It’s Darlene.

                “Jesus, don’t kick him so hard, he might cry,” she laughs and Elliot jumps.

                “Okay, give him a break; he just busted his ass for me.” Elliot chokes on a breath over the word choice, looks at him and there’s the panic. Full blown panic flooding his entire body. “We just worked out the next plan. You should be thanking him.” Darlene makes a noise and rolls her eyes.

                “Whatever. You gotta stop that kicked dog look. I might actually start to feel sorry for you.”

                “Sorry.” He’s leaving. He’s trying not to limp and the dull pain in his hips is starting to grow into a throb.

                He gets Flipper from Shayla. “So,” she says and she’s smiling, “you gonna tell me how you managed to get those?” She goes to touch the hickies and he flinches. “Sorry.”

                “Okay.” He takes Flipper’s leash, “thank you.” Why can he thank her so easily? They slept together. They were a thing for a few hours. Why can’t he thank Mr. Robot? He stands there and Shayla shakes her head.

                “Elliot, hey, Flipper’s gonna need to walk soon,” he nods, “you look like you need a nap.” He nods again. Yeah. A nap. He can do that.

                He unlocks the door to his apartment and Flipper follows behind him. “Do you think I look like a kicked dog, Flipper?” He asks, crouches down to pet her and she licks his hand. “I figured.”

                He takes a nap; lets Flipper sleep on the bed next to him and it’s nice. He’s thoroughly fucked and it’s nice. He’s already planning the next Saturday in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Once when I was 13 we moved into our house and I had a shitty notebook sized netbook that did dickall. I looked our neighbors up and said we weren't getting a reading on their internet could they answer a few questions. Long story short their wifi password was the name of their dead fish and I told someone who knows them and they were like if you had asked me our boys play over there all the time. It's been over four years since I did that wow.  
> So this is probably gonna be a series, I mean it is, I just don't wanna make it series but it's been easier just continue it. Sorry.


End file.
